


The Sun Will Always Rise Again

by entropy24



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Autistic Keith (Voltron), Bilingual Keith (Voltron), Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), F/F, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gen, Good Lotor (Voltron), Hunk (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Japanese Keith (Voltron), Japanese Shiro (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Has a Crush, Keith (Voltron) has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, Lance (Voltron) is a Dork, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Samoan Hunk (Voltron), Sassy Pidge | Katie Holt, keith is a weeb dont fight me on this, lance is deffo a nicki fan, yessir get that good shit up in there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25673455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entropy24/pseuds/entropy24
Summary: Just lance unknowingly pining and keith having a big fat crush on lance while being bad a feelings and emotions beacause, ew , love.im not good a summaries just read the fic ffsTags may be updated so keep an eye out for that.
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Allura/Romelle (Voltron), Hunk & Lance (Voltron), Hunk/Shay (Voltron), James Griffin & Keith (Voltron), Keith & Keith's Wolf (Voltron), Keith & Krolia (Voltron), Keith & Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith & Shiro (Voltron), Keith's Father/Krolia (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron), Matt Holt & Pidge | Katie Holt
Kudos: 15





	1. The Disrespect and Audacity...

**Author's Note:**

> Please bare in mind that this is my first fanfic ever and I am only doing this to keep productive during the summer break and keep my writing skills at decent level as i have gcse mocks coming up. This will probably not have a very consistent update schedual so please be patient :). Thankyou!

**Chapter 1: The Disrespect and Audacity...**

**22:06** yo asshole wya  
answer your mf phone bitch boy tf  
istg im gonna kill ya if ya aint dead already  
swear on my fuckin yeezys hoe  
**22:07** keith!!  
**22:12** hey are you okay.  
KEITH?  
MULLET MAN?!

  
This is not okay. Not even in the slightest. Lance fumbles to put his phone in his pocket as he makes his way through the mass of sweaty and hormone driven teenagers who are bunched together. He hastily makes his way through the crowd, mumbling quick apologies and “’s’cuse me”’s. The onslaught of flashing lights and nausea creeping its way up his throat made it difficult to think.

  
_Why isn't he answering? Where is he? Is he okay?_ Lance couldn’t remember a time where Keith hadn’t responded to his messages. Especially if they were spam: he was too short tempered and organised for that to ever be the case. So, where the _fuck_ is he!?

  
Aggressively barging his way through the last two teens, Lance plants his hands on his and Hunks shared table with a resounding _smack!_ taking large gulps of damp air. He brings his sweating palms up to his face and drags them back down unceremoniously with a loud, distressed groan. Hunk gives his friend a perplexed look before asking, “What’s wrong, buddy?”

  
Lance’s face crumples as if he is in physical pain. Cupping his hands over his mouth, he whispers, “I lost Keith…”

  
Hunk closes the space between him and his best friend. “You wha-?”

  
“-I lost Keith and now his big, beefy brother is gonna smother me with his biceps! He’s not answering his text messages and that only means one thing,” Lance pauses to take a swig from an almost empty beer glass. “It means that Mullet has been kidnapped! What do I do, man?! I don’t wanna die!” His body folds in on itself and his rests his elbows on the unstable platform of the table, head in palms, yanking at short strands of brown hair.

  
Hunk gave his friend a pitying look and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Okay… Let’s go about this logically. Did you try to call his phone? There might be a larger chance of him answering?” Hunk himself wasn’t so sure about his advice, but it was worth a shot, right?

  
The younger boy let out a choked whine from the back of his throat. “No… I guess that should have been the first thing I did.” Lance pries his phone out of his tight jean pocket and scrolls through his contact list until he finds Keith’s contact name (‘yee to my haw’). He presses the phone icon so hard he’s sure he has dislocated his thumb. Holding his phone to his ear, he looks around, eyes flitting distractedly, trying to at least catch a glimpse of the shorter boy through the technicoloured lighting. _Pick up, pick up, pick up pick –_

  
There is a barely there crackle and then a bunch of incoherent grumbles. “What?” the person on the other end snaps. _KEITH!_ Lance’s brain supplies and the little guy was right: it’s Keith!

  
Lance lets out a quick sigh of relief before replying, “The fuck do you mean ‘what?’?” He mocks Keith’s monotonous and dreary voice. “The audacity you have to answer me like that after me messaging you a bajillion times! Do you realise how worried I was? I thought I was gonna be murdered, Keith!”

  
Keith yawns tiredly in Lance’s ear, “Well, I’m glad you were only worried about me out of fear for your own life. I’ll have you know that I am just fine. Here. In the comfort of my own bed.” He sounds bemused, as if he can’t figure out why in _fucks_ name Lance would be worried.

  
Lance does not like the tone in Keith’s voice. He scoffs, the sharp action oozing with sarcasm and spite. “Yeah, as if you didn’t just disappear from the club we were in to watch fucking Mothman documentaries. You could have at least let us know that you were leaving. We know you don’t like social gatherings and such, we would have understood, bitch boy.”

  
There’s a beat of silence between the two before the line cut. _What. The. Fuck._ Lance lets his mouth drop open in disbelief. The disrespect is overwhelming. Then, his phone lights up once again with a text notification. He opens it swiftly and rolls his eyes so far to the back of his head he could see his brain cells. Hunk, who had been watching and listening intently to the conversation, gives Lance a questioning look. The tanned boy turns the screen over to show his best friend the message.

  
**22:17 sorry** _**kinda tird rn. Messge me tmrw?/** _

  
Hunk’s round, brown eyes read the message over and over again, searching for what could have made Lance so irate. His brain registered nothing. He shrugs indifferently and glances back up to Lance who is looking significantly more irritated. Hunk exhales before saying, “Look. How ‘bout we go back to our apartment, cool down, maybe watch a movie, and then head to bed. We’ll sort this out tomorrow, alright, buddy?”

  
The warmth in Hunk’s voice makes Lance’s face soften and the tension in his shoulders loosen just that tiny bit. _Ah, Hunk_ , Lance muses inwardly, _always the voice of reason_. He then nods and begins to gather up his army green coat and wallet, which Hunk had kindly looked after for him while he was lost in the grand sea of teenagers. _Bless his soul_. Lance smiles gingerly at Hunk before making his way to the club’s backdoor exit.

_We’ll sort it out tomorrow._


	2. Must Be Nice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda crazy to think that people iare reading this! thankyou for the kudos. i decided to update again since i have nothing else to do. im suprised my brain is letting me do this but im gonna uploaud as much as possible before this random spur of motivation ends. hope you guys enjoy!

**Chapter 2: Must Be Nice…**

Keith is a man of very meticulous nature. He knew what he wants and how to get it. He is quiet and very…introverted? Shy? Keith supposes they are the same thing, not to worried about the practicalities of words. He is more interested in creative arts and conspiracies. So much so to the point of having been kicked out of his previous high school for not paying enough mind to his core subjects. Keith thought (and still thinks) that the decision was bullshit. Why couldn’t they let him do what he wanted to do instead of hounding him about maths equations and useless English essays? _The schooling system is fucked._

Anyway, back to the original point: Keith is a reserved person. So, when Lance had asked him to tag along on a “boys’ night out”, he was sceptical, to say the least. Questions and doubts flooded his mind endlessly. _Where are we going? Who will be there? Is there gonna be alcohol? I don’t think I can handle my liquor very well…_

He hadn’t spoken any of these grievances aloud, which was why in the next few hours he found himself standing awkwardly in the corner of a cramped club, wishing he was at home.

He knows he should have been honest with Lance and declined his offer. He knows him and Hunk wouldn’t hold it against him… but something about the way Lance’s azure eyes shimmered in the reflecting light left him wanting to never lose sight of those genial orbs ever again. _I want to be the one who makes him feel that way._ Which way? He didn’t know. But, what he did know, is that he wanted it.

A total of 11 minutes after they had arrived at the club (a club of all things), Keith was lost. He had assumed that going along with Lance would make the chestnut- haired boy happy. He was wrong.

_Must be nice to have a proper perception of emotions._

Upon entering, Lance was swept away by the ravenous pack of untamed, horny teenagers and wasn’t to be seen for the rest of the Keith’s short, uneventful stay. Keith wasn’t sure if Lance was okay, but honestly, that was the last thing on his mind.

Instead of being slammed by the joyful and youthful energy of the room, Keith was bombarded by the realisation stating _this was a bad idea._

 _The lights are loud, bass is too bright- wait, no, the other was around - not really, I guess either way is correct-._ He could hardly think, hardly breathe. It was **TOO MUCH.** Keith reopened his eyes (when had he closed them?) and focused on his next mission: Mission GTFO. He shoved, pushed and ploughed his way through the crowd until he reached the back door. He pressed all his body weight and was met with the calming, cooling winter air. He inhaled through his nose. _This is why you’re my favourite season._ He pressed his palms together to keep himself grounded, hailed a taxi and jumped right the fuck in. He probably should have checked if the driver was licenced, but considering he is staring at himself in his bathroom mirror, he can deduce the that driver was not a man eating serial killer( no matter how cool that would have been).

Keith brushes his teeth, showers and changes into some loose sweatpants and oversized t-shirt before plopping himself down onto his bed and opening his phone. He scrolls absent-mindedly through his Instagram feed, which consists of mostly Bigfoot theories and knives, and only stops when a notification from, the one and only, Katie ‘Pidge’ Holt pops up from the top of his screen.

 **12:54** _yo ya mind telling me why tf lance his blowing up my phone telling me how much of an asshole you are??_

The fuck? What did I do now? After a moment of contemplating a response, he says:

 **12:55** _**no fucking idea.**_

 **12:55** _mm is that so_

 **12:55** _well you better find out bc hes coming over to your apartment in 10 minutes lmaoo_

 _He’s what?!_ Keith’s eyes widen comically before he comes back to his senses and darts over to his and Lance’s last conversation.

8 unanswered messages, an answered call and one reply from Keith. He reads over the conversation several times before he understands: Lance, being the drama queen he is, is coming to his home instead of just simply messaging him like Keith had suggested.

In all honesty, Keith doesn’t remember ever having a conversation with Lance the previous night. It’s just a blur of word and a jumble of feelings, almost like it was a dream. Keith throws his phone to the floor before tapping his cheeks rhythmically as a motivation method. _I really don’t feel like talking to anyone in person today._ He stops to stretch out his arms. _But_ _I might as well make myself look presentable. It is Lance, after all._

He moves to get off his bed, the (ancient) structure creaking below his weight, when he hears and violent banging from the living room. _The door! The… door? Wait, the fucking door?! It hasn’t even been 10 minutes yet! I still look like a crawled out of Death’s ass!_

_Ah, shit…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like last chapter, constructive criticism is welcome. please point out any mistakes i have made. thank you for reading:)!

**Author's Note:**

> as this is creative writing practice, constructive criticism is always welcome! please point out any mistakes i have made.. i think i got them all though... the format may be a bit fucked but oh well.Thankyou for reading, pals!!


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